Memory
by LuniaWolfe
Summary: While enjoying a relaxing evening, Lunia Hawke sings a song that unlocks something precious.


**So this story came to my head last night while I listen to my new favorite song, "Mir Da'len Somniar."** **Set during Act III after our two lovebirds have gotten back together. Just some fluff. Could go with my "All The Same" story, but completely stand alone. As always, I do not owe Dragon Age, it's lore, it's language, or any of that, just my wonderful head canon of Lunia.**

Clothes lay all over Lunia Hawke's room. Some were dirty, some were clean that had not gotten to putting away that day, some were not even her's. She looked around as she hummed, there was her and Fenris's clothes, starting in a trail from the door leading to the bed. There was the clothes that she had bought on a spur of the moment trip with Isabella, and as she squinted she saw the pirate queen had left something of her's there as well. Merrill's scarf was draped across the back of her desk chair where she had come over and was trying to teach Lunia more about the Dalish histories. Mostly though, all Hawke could latch onto and retain was the music. Orana would drift in while they were singing and play her lute, that was propped up by the fireplace.

Sighing with content, Lunia wove her fingers through Fenris's silky white hair, his head laying on her chest, arms wrapped around her. She didn't know why he didn't just move in. He stayed here most nights, but it must be the idea of having one's own place. Of course it was nice when Fenris had his guys night. The Hanged Man was the meeting place of all her little misfit family. Didn't seem right that the men have a night at the Hanged Man without the ladies. It also may have had to do with keeping it a secret from Aveline.

"What are you humming Hawke?" Fenris asked sleeply, not even opening his eyes.  
"A lullaby that Merrill taught me. I can't seem to get it out of my head," she said.  
"Sing it for me. Sometimes singing something out loud helps it to leave."  
Are you telling me that you sing Fenris?" she asked with a smile.  
"I am saying nothing, I'm just trying to be helpful," he huffed when she chuckled.  
"Alright, but I think you just want to hear me sing." Silence was her answer.

 _Elgara vallas, da'len  
_ _Melava smoniar  
_ _Mala taren aravas  
_ _Ara ma'desen melar_

 _Iras ma ghilas, da'len  
_ _Ara ma'nedan ashir  
_ _Dirthara lothlenan'as  
_ _Bal emma mala dir_

 _Tel'endenim, da'len  
_ _Irassal ma ghilas  
_ _Ma garas mir renan  
_ _Ara ma'athlan vhenas  
_ _Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

As the last word left her lips, Fenris's grip tightened on Lunia. Her fingers stilled from their weaving, "Fenris what's wrong?" He didn't answer and she saw pain etched in his face. "Fenris!" She tried to move him, but he clung to her as if she were a lifeline. Wrapping her arms around him as best she could. What was happening? As she murmured comforting words into his ear for what seemed as forever, she wracked her brain to figure out where his pain was coming from. Finally his grip on her lessened, but he still held her tightly.

"I remember something," he said after a few moments of deep breathing. "A woman sitting on my bed and a little girl sleeping. A storm, crack of lighting, scared. The woman gathers me up into her arms. Long black hair becomes a curtain and she runs her fingers through my hair. She sings that song. I..." he can't speak anymore.

"Oh Fenris, love. That is wonderful! You are remembering your mother." Tears fills her eyes. Finally, another memory besides his one with Verania. A loving memory, something to hold onto. "Can you see her face?"  
"Tattoos. She was Dalish. Someone must have taken her from her clan..."  
"I wonder which one..."  
"It does not matter..." Fenris said quickly. He looked up at Hawke and could see the wheels turning. "Please Hawke, it truly does not matter. I now have a memory of mother... I know her love..." he said and gently kissed her lips and snuggled back down onto her chest.

Lunia Hawke smiled at his and kissed the top of his head. What was that phrase that Merrill taught her last time? It had sounded so beautiful in Elvhen, but when she had learned the meaning, she wanted to learn more of the long dead language. "Ar lath ma, vhenan"


End file.
